


Hatestruck

by Avocadoz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, M/M, Stupid summer boys, Theon is an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 04:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avocadoz/pseuds/Avocadoz
Summary: Jon hates Theon. Theon likes to wind Jon up.





	Hatestruck

 If there was one thing Jon Snow was absolutely certain of, it was that he hated Theon Greyjoy.

In truth, the feeling went beyond hate. He could barely stand to look at him. There was not a single thing about the older boy that he could even tolerate- not his ridiculous velvet clothes, not his disgusting japes, not his stupid curly hair, and most definitely not his smile, what with those ugly white teeth and all.

Granted, Jon was certain of a lot of things. He was certain of his fighting skills, for one. He was certain that the Night´s Watch was going to be the right place for him. He was certain that he would find his true purpose there, that he would find friends. It was an opportunity to rise high in the world, not a mistake, as he had explained to Robb upon a thousand times. Still, his brother never seemed to truly understand.

Jon knew exactly what he was getting himself into, which was why he hated pricks like Greyjoy, who thought that they could stroll around saying things like-

“Tell me Snow, have you ever laid with a woman?”

Jon ignored him, hacking savagely at the training dummy. The dim of the feast drifted into the night. He had gone to the banquet, sat at the end of the table like a good bastard. He had watched Greyjoy whisper filth into some wench´s ear, his fingers buried in her skirts. It had been unbearable to watch, and not being allowed to leave.

“That is no concern of yours.”

“Perhaps not, but one cannot help but wonder. I mean, only a virgin would be naïve enough to trade a warm, wet cunt for bad weather and…” Theon paused, grimacing. “...work.” He had edged closer as he spoke, and Jon had retreated so that he now found his back pressed against the stable wall, with Greyjoy only inches away. Close enough that Jon could smell the wine on his breath, feel the warmth of his body, spot the haze in his eyes.

Jon felt his face turn hot, and he was grateful for the dim light. “Did you want something?” He asked sourly. “Or did you just come here to mock me?”

He squirmed in his leathers to look Greyjoy in the eye, and no mistake, there it was, that annoying over-willingness to poke at him, paired with that trice-damned toothy smirk. On another face, Jon might have thought the expression kind, but he had known Greyjoy for the bigger part of his life, ever since Theon first came to Winterfell as a little boy. He was seldom kind, and never to the likes of bastards such as Jon himself.

“I just told you, Snow; I want to know if you have ever spurted your seed inside a woman.” Said Theon, his mouth nearly brushing Jon´s ear. He chuckled. “Gods, I know that your mother was a whore and all, but you do seem to have inherited the Starks slow mind at leas-“

“Shut your filthy mouth!” Jon shouted, propelling forward and shoving Greyjoy as hard as he could.

They hit the ground hard, stumbling over each other´s legs. Greyjoy was reaching for the hilt of his sword when Jon tackled him into the mud, staining his pretty clothes. He swung wildly at where he thought Greyjoy´s eye to be, but connected with what felt like the side of his throat instead. Judging from the choked cry that sounded the next instant, Jon knew that he had been right. He tried again for the eye, and this time, he succeeded.

And then they rolled over, until Greyjoy was on top, one hand on Jon´s throat, the other drunkenly fumbling for his blade. Jon punched him in the face again, first on the mouth and then again on the eye, over and over until he finally felt the skin breaking underneath his fist.

It was disgusting, Jon discovered, to go this far, and he found himself hating the metallic scent of blood, the beams of sweat that dripped from his brow, and the fact that despite the red pouring out of Greyjoy's mouth, he was still struggling.

Jon hated it, but at the same time, somehow, it felt so _good._

“I´ll kill you, you little bastard!” Theon smirked, even though it was him that was pressed to the muck, his arms trapped underneath Jon´s thighs. Theon's silky cloak was now absolutely teared away from his right shoulder, his tunic ripped and hanging.  

“Do it then!” Jon spat.

And then they tumbled once more, Jon´s black hair dipped mud-brown and soaked, Greyjoy´s white teeth stained bright red. Jon landed another punch to his bleeding mouth, and then...

Then that bleeding mouth crashed into his own.

Jon opened his mouth in shock, and Greyjoy shoved his tongue between his lips. It took only a second, and then he pulled back, and then they were kissing so hard that he could hardly breathe. Theon opened his mouth again and Jon´s jaw ached, but it did not matter, no more than the fact that Greyjoy had grown rock-hard against Jon´s thigh.  

Jon bit his lip raw, tasting salt and blood and mud. He licked into Theon´s mouth, and Greyjoy whimpered.

Greyjoy _whimpered._

“Ah, Snow-“He breathed, sliding his hands into Jon´s curls. “Not, not here. Let´s-”

Somehow, they managed to stumble inside the stable, collapsing on top of each other in a pile of hay. Greyjoy´s hands were everywhere, rough on the bruised and unblemished skin alike. Jon´s cock went fully hard from Theon´s dripping mouth on his, and he tilted his head, grabbing Theon around the neck and clawing at his chest, his shoulders, making Greyjoy hiss into his mouth.

And then Theon was ripping of their clothes, his cloak tearing the rest of the way and landing in a dirty heap behind him. He gave as well as he got, tearing open Jon´s breeches o find him swollen and leaking. He wrapped his fist around it, and Jon moaned into his mouth. Sweat ran down their faces as they panted against each other, kissed deep, pulled apart to breathe again, all the while Greyjoy pumped Jon´s cock.

“Wh-what are we doing?” Jon asked, his voice trembling from arousal. He jerked his hips up, Theon´s smooth hand tight around his length.

Theon said nothing, spitting into his hand, and pouring it over his own cock. _Seven hells,_ it was a pretty cock too. Of course it was. That prick. He took both of their cocks in hand and edged closer. Theon's member was warm against Jon´s and they thrusted experimentally together, avoiding each other´s gaze. They spent a couple of moments like that, before Jon glanced up and saw that Theon was staring at him, and Jon´s breath caught for a horrifying moment until Theon grabbed him by the arm and pushed him up against the wall.

“Do you like boys, Snow?” Theon asked, grabbing Jon´s ass and squeezing it hard. And if Jon was not mistaken, the arsehole smiled against Jon's skin as he tightened his grip around their cocks. “Is that it? Is that why the prospect of swearing off girls doesn’t scare you?”

“Shut up, Theon. “ Groaned Jon, pulling at Theon´s wild hair.

“Oh, so it´s _Theon_ now…” Whispered Greyjoy, kissing him. “You might as well add a ´Prince´ to that while you’re at it.”

Jon pinned his hands to the stall, tongue hard, lips wet.

Greyjoy broke the kiss, pulling away. He knocked Jon´s hands off his body. For a moment- a surprisingly cold moment- Jon thought that Greyjoy was ending it, that all of this had just been some twisted jape of his. It was just like Greyjoy to find self-satisfaction in tricking someone like that. The fear shot up into the pit of his stomach, tightening it.

But then Greyjoy smiled, crooked and no longer as ugly, and slid to his knees in the hay, causing Jon to spread his legs to make room for him. He grinned, peering up at Jon, laughed at Jon´s shocked face, and then closed first his warm hand and then his bleeding lips around Jon´s cock and started sucking it.

Jon tried to say something, but he did not know what, and he failed. His eyes shut closed at their own accord, and his mouth opened on the force of his gasp. He clutched for a heap of hay and Greyjoy´s hair at the same time, as he started working, up and down. His mouth, so hot and slick, moved constantly- sucking and releasing so that Jon realized that he had seconds before he peaked, not minutes, to remember just how this felt- Theon Greyjoy, the slimy ironborn arsehole that he hated, sucking his cock down on the ground in the stables.

He had not planned it, but Jon threaded his hands through Theon´s curls while he sucked. He tightened his fingers. He watched that bleeding mouth slide over his cock, those bruised cheeks hollowing, Greyjoy´s pale throat swallowing, Theon´s face flushed, Theon´s eyes fluttering opening…

The way he varied the pace, tilting his head…

The telling movements, of his jerking arm, the hand that Jon could not see between Theon´s legs…

The noises he made, completely unrestrained…

And his eyes- those sea green, mischievous eyes, peering up at Jon. They did not look as stupid as they Jon used to think. Theon kissed, and licked, under the head, his strong hand a blur between his own legs.

At last, Jon surrendered and came. He tore at Theon´s hair, jerked his hips, felt his come fill Theon´s mouth, felt him swallow, but he still saw it drip out of his mouth and trickle down his chin. Theon hummed, and Jon´s cock jerked in his mouth. He met his eyes and after that-

The world went cold. The sound of the wind wormed itself back into Jon´s ears. The air smelled of blood and dirt. Theon sat up and licked his lips, then wiped Jon´s come off his chin with the back of his hand.

Jon did not like looking at Theon Greyjoy´s body and knowing that he had been his first.

He hated Theon Greyjoy.

Nothing like this could happen ever again.

Jon did not want it to happen again.

Yet, gods be damned, he did.


End file.
